


Five Times Sophia was Afraid and One Time She Wasn't

by lucidscreamer



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Sequence, Drama, Family, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Female Character, Season/Series 02, Sophia Peletier Lives, Spousal Abuse (referenced), Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidscreamer/pseuds/lucidscreamer
Summary: Sometimes, she hides under her bed. She makes herself small and still and silent, (safe) alone in the dark.





	Five Times Sophia was Afraid and One Time She Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble sequence composed of six 150 word (drabble-and-a-half) prompt responses. Since the individual sections are so short, I decided to post them as a single chapter rather than 6 short chapters.
> 
> The prompts came from an old LJ community. I've had them in my prompt folder for years and finally found the inspiration to do something with them.

1\. Bruise

The bruises were never any place that could show: tucked under her long sleeves like her grandma's Kleenex, (the shape of thick fingers, purpling into her skin); beneath her jeans, (the imprint of a careless kick, growing yellow on the back of her thigh); tied below the tongue of her shoe, (the press of a heavy boot sole, red and aching on her arch).

Once, a teacher wondered why she wore long sleeves in summer's heat, and Sophia had stared at her, eyes wide with visions of her daddy's anger. Knowing, if this question followed her home, the fault would be her own in his eyes and it'd be his hands impressing the pattern of her error into her bones so she wouldn't forget it. Wouldn't make the same mistake again.

She can't recall which lie she told her teacher. Her elbow still aches, some days, from the lesson.

　

　

2\. Hopeless

Momma took her and ran, once.

It was after a really bad day at home; a day that stretched into the night and followed them both to a new morning, where hushed whispers replaced loud voices and their quiet footsteps ghosted across floors that had, in the dark, held Daddy's stomping boots and her mother curled into her pain in the corner.

After Daddy left, a slammed door his only farewell, they crept outside together, hands entwined and shaking in the cool gray dawn. A taxi took them to someplace in the city. A shelter, Momma said, her voice straining its way past still-bloodied lips.

There were more hushed voices inside the shelter, and mouths pinched tight, and some side-long looks that carried more judgment than understanding. They only stayed the day.

When evening came, another taxi took them home before Daddy could find out they'd ever gone.

Sophia cried.

　

　

3\. Alone

Momma was careful never to leave Sophia alone with Daddy. (Momma wore the marks of her defiance on her face and arms, and her eyes went as hard as the stones Sophia blamed for the red scrapes on her knees.)

They sometimes shared the welts from belt or switch, thin stripes of pain woven across their backs or legs. The hurt was no less than enduring it alone.

Sometimes, she hides under her bed. She makes herself small and still and silent, (safe) alone in the dark.

She's alone when she sees her first Walker, a man-shaped _thing_ stumbling into the camera's sights on TV. At first, she thinks it's a horror movie and tries to change the channel, but it's on all of them. Momma hugs her and sends her to her room.

Huddled alone in the back of the Jeep, she wishes for her room, her safe bed.

　

　

4\. Nightmare

　

On the highway, Walker follows Walker, dead feet dragging past her hiding place beneath the car. Sophia presses her face to the pavement, doll hugged to a chest aching to scream.

Under her own sheltering car, Momma watches, teary eyes begging Sophia to be small and still and silent, (safe). Surrounded, Sophia feels alone, and bites her tongue to keep the scream inside. The tears in her eyes make Momma blur and wobble like a dream.

When the last Walker has shuffled out of sight, she drags herself from her sanctuary with limbs that ache and shiver in the Georgia heat. Her mind's wrapped in the wooly shroud of terror-not-yet-past, and all she wants are Momma's arms, strong and safe, to chase the nightmare away.

She doesn't see the Walker 'til it grabs at her. The scream breaks free, then; its echoes chase her and the Walkers into the woods.

　

　

　

5\. Lost

When Sophia was very little, she got lost in a big department store. It was Christmas time and a shiny display lured her away from Momma's side. Just for a minute, but it was enough. She stood there in her red coat with the attached mittens, lip trembling as she fought not to cry, lost in the sea of unfamiliar faces surrounding her.

Momma found her soon enough, of course, her own lip trembling, and hugged Sophia close all the way back to the car.

The woods aren't like the department store; they're shadowy, quiet, and every shift of leaf or limb is a Walker stalking her. She freezes whenever she hears the crack of a twig. Her heart is a caged bird, fluttering against her ribs. She steps lightly as a deer, poised for flight.

She has to find her way back to the cars, back to Momma's arms.

　

　

+1. Laughter

　

There was a photo on the refrigerator at home: baby Sophia, smeared with birthday cake, both hands wrist-deep in pink frosting, happy laughter frozen in time.

She can't remember that, but she remembers laughing at the silly jokes Momma told to cheer her up when she was sick, or had a bad day at school.

She remembers giggling over trays of Christmas cookies, sugary sweet and smelling of vanilla and spice.

She laughs, a tiny thing sobbed out on an exhale, so full of relief when Daryl finds her. Big arms scoop her up and carry her out of the woods, back to Momma, and they laugh and cling together and cry.

Sophia is too big for Momma to carry, but she does, all the way to the car and tucks her (safe) inside. Momma crawls in beside her and they huddle, arms around one another. And they are happy.

 


End file.
